


Gestures of Affection

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e02 Four Marks, Episode: s01e05 Bottled Appetites, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Modeling, Multi, Sickfic, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 9,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: A collection of shorts featuring any configuration of the relationship between Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer and the ways they show affection to each other. With bonus Ciri, because she’s their family.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 33
Kudos: 366
Collections: Witcher





	1. One - Geralt/Jaskier

**Author's Note:**

> I'm practicing writing romance, and what better way to start than with the Witcher?
> 
> So, if there is anything you'd like to see, please send me a prompt!

For once accomplishing a hunt with a minimum of gore, Geralt shouldered his way into the ramshackle inn. It was early morning still, and the few people working in the tavern gave him no more than a second glance on his way to the room he and Jaskier reserved.

The room was dark, curtains drawn and candle unlit. In the moment it took his eyes to adjust, Geralt focused his sense on his surroundings. He wasn’t expecting any trouble, but he couldn’t allow himself to be caught off guard. Soft snores were the only sound in the room, their source lying sprawled on his stomach on the bed. The blanket was twisted around Jaskier’s legs, draping precariously over his butt and disappearing underneath his chest. 

Geralt smiled and quickly shed his armor. It was less disgusting than usual after a hunt, but Jaskier would still throw a fit if it came anywhere near him. Jaskier didn’t stir, which wasn’t unusual – the bard slept like the dead, even though he made enough noise to wake them. 

The bed was smaller than he’d like, but the two of them would fit easily enough if Jaskier hadn’t rolled to the direct middle of the bed. Geralt would have to move him to make room. It should have annoyed him, but instead he felt something warm building in his chest. He pressed an idle kiss to the small of Jaskier’s back as he nudged his legs out of the way, and trailed a handful of kisses up his spine. Jaskier murmured wordlessly and stretched, arching his back and following the guidance of Geralt’s hands to finally free up his side of the bed. Geralt pressed a final kiss to Jaskier’s shoulder, then curled up on his side, watching the door until his eyes drifted closed.


	2. Two - Gen, Implied OT3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sleeping habits of Witchers (and co) in the wild. How Geralt, Ciri, Yennefer, and Jaskier navigate sleeping in camp.

Sleeping arrangements were actually quite complicated as their traveling group got larger. Between nightmares, restless sleep, and insomnia, at least one member of their group was awake at any given time. During the wee hours of the night, this was usually Geralt and Ciri. Neither given to verbosity, they typically found comfort in sitting beside each other, sipping cups of lavender tea. Eventually, Ciri’s eyes would start to slip closed, her weight resting against Geralt’s side. Occasionally, if Ciri was unable to settle and they didn’t need to worry about waking Yennefer, Geralt might start training early, sparring with wooden blades until she tired herself out.

Yennefer’s sleep was always troubled. She woke at the slightest of sounds, and was often unable to fall back asleep for hours at a time. Fortunately, she found that the moonlight was the best light to mix many of her herbs together. If Ciri woke up during this time, she would sit next to Yennefer and watch her hands effortlessly prepare the herbs as the witch softly explained each step. More often, though, it was just Yennefer, the moon, and Geralt.

Geralt’s sleep was unpredictable. Nightmares had long ago trained him to avoid sleep as much as he can, relying on meditation to get him through the day. When Geralt did sleep, it was a light slumber, his body never fully relaxing. His sleep came in quick snatches – a handful of minutes here, an hour there. It never left him feeling refreshed and rested and he hated it. More often than not, he would settle himself near his companions, his body always between them and potential danger, and meditate lightly. It wasn’t uncommon for Geralt to come to awareness with Jaskier or Ciri resting against his legs.

Jaskier needed more sleep than any of them, but his sleep was also the easiest. He would lie for hours attempting to sleep, but once he was out, he was out. Sometimes it was hard to pin down the exact moment he drops off, as he continues talking even in his sleep, forever incapable of silence. He also moved a lot in his sleep, often waking on the other end of the blankets from where he fell asleep. Jaskier demanded cuddles to fall asleep, even though his own restlessness and the long time it took to fall asleep meant that Yennefer and Geralt often got fed up before he had his fill of cuddles. Ciri was most tolerant, curling up next to Jaskier most nights, until her nightmares stole her sleep again.

If Geralt was able to lure her back to sleep, he would tuck Ciri in next to Jaskier. The movement would wake Yennefer, so he would meditate with Ciri warm against his side to delay as long as possible. Once Yenn jerked herself awake, she took a moment to breathe and observe her surroundings. Yennefer didn’t like to be touched in these times, but she wouldn’t move far to start mixing herbs. Geralt usually settled into a seated position next to Jaskier and Ciri, always keeping her in his sightline. While he meditated, Yennefer let the repetitive process of grinding herbs and boiling them slowly soothe her. By the time she felt ready to stand touch again, she was usually ready to attempt sleep once more and would curl up at Jaskier’s back, Ciri between them.

When the first rays of dawn breached the sky, Geralt pulled himself from meditation to what was quickly becoming his favorite sight: Jaskier’s forehead pressed into Geralt’s outer thigh, his arms cuddling Geralt’s leg tight. Ciri had shifted herself around since he had tucked her in, and now her head was pillowed on Jaskier’s calf while her legs sprawled over her sleeping companions. Yennefer’s back pressed solidly against Jaskier’s as she curled into a tight ball, Ciri’s leg draped over her hip.

  
Geralt breathed deeply in the morning air and debated how early they needed to get on the road today. Once Yennefer fell asleep again, she was decidedly  _ not _ a morning person. Ciri was still young and growing, and could surely use as much sleep as she could get. And Jaskier was a pain to wake up at any time of the day, no matter how much sleep he had gotten. They could probably afford a late start this morning. The time lost was less trouble than dealing with his irritable, half asleep companions. He closed his eyes again as the world came alive with birdsong, and smiled to himself when Jaskier unconsciously mimicked a thrush’s call. Yes, they could rest for a few more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm accepting prompts, so if there's anything you want to see happen, hit me up!


	3. Three - Geralt/Yennefer + Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Geralt/Yennefer love scenes in the show have the melody from Her Sweet Kiss playing in the background. So, what if Jaskier plays mood music for their dates?

Geralt didn’t know how good he had it, Yennefer thought. He was uncomfortable with praise when it was spoken, but songs in his honor? No, Geralt hadn’t figured out how to put it into words yet, but she’d seen the way he squirmed and frowned when songs about him were sung in public. He was better on the road – saddled on Roach, he could ignore the sonnets and the praise the bard attempted to heap on him. Yennefer found the whole thing rather entertaining to watch, quite honestly. 

But in public, in taverns and inns where Jaskier plays to the masses, it’s clear that Geralt feels trapped and doesn’t know what to do with his discomfort. She takes pity on him, and draws him away from the crowd. They find their own ways to pass the time, while Jaskier earns enough coin to cover their stay.

It’s an arrangement that works for them, but – and Yennefer will never, ever admit this – she wished she didn’t always have to miss the bard’s performances. There was something different about his energy playing before a crowd than on the road alone with them. It was intriguing.

So the party invitation before them was perhaps worth considering. Geralt hated pomp and circumstance, but she and Jaskier were both quite fond of the finer things in life. Things like elegant silks, fine wines, delicious food, lavish baths with salts and oils...And fancy parties were absolutely on the list. 

But events where Jaskier entertained meant that the bard would be fully occupied all evening, and Geralt wasn’t eager to be stuck on her arm, sharing niceties with an endless array of nobles. Standing in the corner looking foreboding? That he could do. Small talk? Of course not. So Yennefer promised she would let him be her silent arm candy and keep the networking to a minimum.

Besides, she was mostly interested in the bard’s performance. She was right – there was a different kind of energy when he performed for a crowd. The audience seemed to hang on every lyric, allowing Jaskier to play their heartstrings like a lute. He managed the mood of the room seamlessly throughout the night, from tales of glory and valor to upbeat drinking songs and stomping beats to slow, flowing love ballads. There was a certain beauty in watching a master at work, and times like these, she could easily understand what Geralt saw in the bard. 

Jaskier led the musicians into a waltz, and Yennefer had the brilliant idea to start the dancing. Geralt was less thrilled with this plan, feeling like every eye in the ballroom was on him. But others began breaking off into pairs and suddenly, he was just one of many in a crowd, everyone around him too engrossed in their partners to stare at him. Yennefer led him through the steps easily; Geralt had always taken quickly to her commands. With Jaskier’s music in her ears and Geralt’s solid bulk against her, she decided that it was worth putting up with the pomp and circumstance of court on occasion to have this. And if Geralt was still annoyed, they’d make it up to him later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you want to see? Send me a prompt!


	4. Four - Geralt/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Episode 2: Four Marks. Jaskier propositions Geralt.

“So, do you like men?” He’d found being direct was the best way to get a possible answer from Geralt. The Witcher may enjoy being mysterious, but Jaskier has picked up a few things during their brief adventure with the elves. And based on what he’d learned so far, that was probably a look of shock on Geralt’s face, which didn’t bode well for his odds of getting laid tonight. 

“Are you even of age for a human?” He was fairly certain Geralt was attempting to sound scandalized. 

“I am, actually, and I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment about my youthful looks.” Jaskier tosses his hair. “Is that your only objection?”

“Why?”

“Because,” Jaskier shrugged. “I want to know if I can ask you again. Look, if you want me to forget we ever had this conversation, I will. But if your only concern is my age, we’ll… I’ll grow up. And even if you’re never interested in me, I’d like to get to know you.”

“More song fodder?”

Jaskier blinked at him, then bit his lip. “That’s not what I meant. I – I can’t promise not to write about you. But not every song written is meant to be heard. I would like to sing about you, I really do want to be your barker. And I know you’re not exactly delighted about that. Personally, I think being so uncomfortable with compliments is a sign you need more, but that’s not the point. The point is – “ Jaskier sighed, “You inspire me. There is something about you that calls to me, and I would like the chance to explore that. If – if you seriously want me to leave you alone, I will. But if you’re willing, I’d like to get to know you. And I know you’re not going to make that easy. But as long as you can stand me, I’d like to stick around and learn as much as I can. Not just to share with the world that Witcher’s have a heart, but because you fascinate me, and I think you could inspire the best writing of my life.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s face was unreadable. “Following me is a good way to guarantee your life is a short one.”

Jaskier shrugged again. “Life on the road is dangerous. I’m thinking my odds of survival are better with you than on my own.”

“You’re an idiot,” Geralt shook his head. “Do what you want.” With a grunt, he turned to Roach.

Jaskier grinned. “I’m taking that as a ‘yes, that is my only objection, and yes, I am fascinated by you too, Jaskier.’”

“Hmm.”


	5. Five: Geralt/Jaskier, with a hint of Geralt/Yennefer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt hates shaving, but he likes having his beard and hair taken care of.

Left to his own devices, Geralt hated shaving. He also hated when his hair grew out too long or when his beard started to get unkempt, but there was something about shaving himself that he just found so...unpleasant. He could feel every scrape of the razor, every tremble in the hand, every pulse of blood rushing through his neck. Something about it was just...unpleasant. It was easier to just deal with overgrown hair and beard than to deal with shaving.

When he had the opportunity, he would stop by barbers in the towns civilized enough to have one. It wasn’t easy to trust another with a knife at his throat, and he was always tense, ready for the knife to slip. But somehow, having someone else shave him didn’t evoke the same unpleasantness that shaving himself did. He found he actually rather liked it. It was worth gritting his teeth through the threat to have his hair and beard taken care of by someone who knew what they were doing so that he didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

Then he’d started to travel with Jaskier. And, well, why wait until you can pay for a service in the city when it’s available in front of you? It had taken Geralt a while to build up to asking for a shave. It wasn’t that he was uncertain. If he could grit his teeth through a strange barber, he could certainly handle Jaskier. He knew what he wanted. It was just that putting it into words took work. A lot of work.

He just wasn’t a words person. Not when it came to important things. If he was coming down from a potion high or if someone made a false claim about besting a monster, he could easily talk longer than most would think him capable of. Monster facts were safe. They were the first thing he learned as a Witcher, and they were how he lived his life. Reciting them was a touchstone, grounding him. But the words weren’t his own. He could cite hundreds of books Vesemir had forced on them during training with no issue whatsoever, but to form his own words about his own experience? No, that was not something he could easily do. Every word felt like a struggle, like he was barely keeping afloat in a drowning wave.

There was a reason people called witchers emotionless. It was  _ difficult _ to acknowledge them, and it was ever so much easier to shove them down and never think about it. After all, who would care enough about a witcher to notice? Who would be worth forcing the words out?

(If he were being totally honest, he knew he was soft-hearted. He’d found far too many people who were worth the struggle. And he tried, he truly did. Sometimes he managed to say the right thing. Sometimes he just made things worse.)

Anyway, it had taken effort to force the words past his lips, but once Geralt had asked Jaskier to shave him, he never had to say it again. Jaskier understood his wordless signals, he respected how hard words were for Geralt. 

He hadn’t known how much he trusted Jaskier until the first time Jaskier put a blade to his throat and he felt  _ relaxed _ . It was strange – he had always been on guard, always at the ready. But he knew Jaskier would never hurt him. And so he decided to let himself lean into that feeling, let himself relax and be taken care of. It was difficult, but still so much easier than words. It was the only way he could speak about these emotions. So he exhaled, and let himself go limp, let his eyes fall shut as Jaskier guided him into position.

This, he realized, this is what love is. To trust so fully in another, to let his guard down and let himself enjoy the moment, enjoy the care he is given.

––

That’s how he knows he loves Yennefer, too. She wasn’t always in the mood for gentleness and care, but when she was, he felt the warm glow of love in his chest as he let her tilt his head back and place the razor against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple of chapters in the works, but I am still accepting prompts! If there is something you'd like to see, hit me up!


	6. Six - Gen/Pre-slash Geralt/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their first meeting, Jaskier tends to Geralt’s injuries. Geralt does not know what to do with this.

As Roach ambled after the singing bard, Geralt’s head ached from that damn ball the Sylvan had thrown at him. He’d been paid in advance – not that he had any coin now – so there was no reason to head back into Lower Posada, and he’d planned to set up camp some distance from the town.

When he came across a good clearing, Geralt dismounted and tied Roach to a tree. He didn’t invite the bard to join him – he hadn’t invited him on the hunt either – but when the bard sauntered back to the clearing, Geralt didn’t tell him to fuck off. He wasn’t sure why. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why the bard had followed him in the first place. Why did he care about firsthand experience with “adventure” if he was just going to change all the details anyway?

Humans were always so confusing. But usually they were confusing as far away from the Witcher as they could get. There must be something wrong with this one.

The bard was surprisingly competent as he assisted in setting up camp. He also sang the  _ entire _ time. Though, Geralt did notice when collecting firewood that, if you didn’t have to listen to his words, the bard’s voice was actually quite nice. He would still prefer silence, though.

“Okay, the water’s boiled,” the bard announced, tending a small tin cup over the fire. “We should tend to your wounds.” The bard moved in front of him, standing too close for comfort. Without waiting for Geralt to say anything, he dipped a cloth in the water and reached for Geralt’s face. It took far more control than it should have to keep his grasp from bruising when his hand automatically grabbed the bard’s wrist before he could make contact. The bard blinked at him. “What, you want to leave all that dried blood on your face?”

Geralt’s brow furrowed, pulling at the wound on his forehead. “What are you doing?”

The bard frowned at him. “I’m getting the sense that you are not a people person, Geralt, but typically when someone is injured protecting you, the least you can do is clean the damn wound.” 

Well, he supposed there was no harm. He released the bard, who grinned widely at him and started dabbing at his forehead. What a strange human. It was interesting.

Geralt stared at the bard as he worked. In his experience, most people grew uncomfortable under his yellow-eyed gaze, but the bard seemed oddly unphased. Who was this human?

Hmm, actually, had he ever said? Geralt had tried his best to ignore the strange man following him, so if he ever had introduced himself, it had been forgotten. But after unwillingly spending the better part of the day together, it was probably too late to ask him. 

“Almost done,” the bard hummed. He dabbed the cloth against Geralt’s split lip, pressure so light he barely registered it at first. The Witcher was fairly certain his body had never been treated so gently by any who had tended to him after a hunt. “There.” The bard pulled away, and Geralt’s front felt strangely cold without him there.

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted. “I’m going to hunt some dinner.”

And the newly dubbed White Wolf fled the campsite and his apparent new traveling companion as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, I have no idea what wound cleaning would look like in our vaguely medieval fantasy Poland, so we’re going with boiled water?? Because idk, it’s clean water to clean the blood off? I dunno, I’ve never had a bard to tenderly care for my injuries.
> 
> As always, I am accepting prompts!


	7. Seven - Jaskier/Geralt/Yennefer implied, pretty gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the anon prompt: yen jaskier and geralt about how they act when one (or both) of the others is sick.  
> So, have Geralt being miserable with a head cold-type sickness, and Yenn and Jaskier taking care of him.

When Geralt opened the door and the only greeting she got was a sniffle and a look on his face that was somehow more sour than his face was naturally inclined to, Yennefer wasn’t sure what to think. 

“What. What is that? What is happening to your face?” His cheeks and nose were all swollen and red, golden eyes giving her a forlorn look.

Instead of answering, Geralt just closed his eyes and groaned. Jaskier slithered in between them, guiding Geralt back into the room and allowing her to properly enter and close the door behind her.

“He’s sick,” Jaskier grinned at her. “Can you believe? Apparently his latest monster carried some kind of sickness that only mutants can catch. The healers aren’t worried, though. It’s basically just a common cold.”

“Ugh,” Geralt articulated. 

Jaskier patted his shoulder. “I know, you’re suffering terribly. It’s okay.” 

Yennefer was impressed Geralt didn’t snap at him for the transparently patronizing tone, but all the Witcher did was sniff again and slump into his bed. “I feel disgusting.” 

“This coming from the man who regularly walks around covered in monster guts. Just saying.” Jaskier grinned and kissed Geralt’s cheek. “Come on, let’s get you properly situated in bed. You need rest, we’ll take care of you.”

Part of Yennefer wanted to protest – she was not particularly interested in being volunteered to spend time around snot-filled sick people. But as she watched the Witcher give a sudden loud sneeze, the expression on his face pure surprise and misery, she felt herself soften. “I’ll go see if the inn has a good soup for you, shall I? Perhaps some tea.”

“Hnn,” was Geralt’s garbled response. She smiled to herself as she left Geralt to the mercy of the bard, who was furiously plumping pillows and getting the Witcher situated just right. Well, if nothing else, it appeared as if Geralt would be easy enough to bully into taking care of himself. She could work with that.


	8. Eight - Geralt/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier attempts to draw Geralt while he obligingly models by meditating for hours on end. The key word there is "attempts".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, an [Shut_up_its_our_AU](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shut_up_its_our_AU/pseuds/Shut_up_its_our_AU) shared an amazing drawing of Geralt posing as a figure model for an art class. And it made me think of [Deathclaw_for_cutie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathclaw_for_Cutie/pseuds/Deathclaw_for_Cutie)'s experience as a life drawing model and how rather than being sexy, it's more likely for the artists to break down in tears because they can't draw the boob just right.

Geralt meditated a lot. Jaskier was pretty sure he substituted sleep with meditation, even though that probably wasn’t healthy. The point was, Geralt spent several hours a day not moving. Literally – the first time Jaskier had come across Geralt meditating, he hadn’t been sure the Witcher was still breathing and nearly had a heart attack. 

Over the years, he’d gotten used to it. Actually, he’d gotten downright spoiled by being able to stare at Geralt for hours without the Witcher getting embarrassed. He could drink in the sight of those shoulders, the curve of Geralt’s back, the bulk of his thighs. 

It had started as a passing thought. He wanted to save the image of Geralt, clad only in his underwear, sitting cross legged in front of the fire. The light threw the lines of his face into sharp relief and Jaskier was struck with the sudden thought that he wanted to ink those lines on paper.

He’d never really tried his hand at sketching. Oh, he doodled now and then, but never with an end goal. But now, now he suddenly wished he was one of those artists at Oxenfurt, hands stained with charcoal because he’d spent the day replicating the lines of Geralt’s chest.

Since Geralt wouldn’t be moving for the next three hours, Jaskier figure he’d give the fantasy a try. He was a master lyricist, able to evoke an image with a few words. Surely actually creating the image couldn’t be that different.

He was very, very wrong.

If he startled Geralt out of meditation when he started crying in frustration over getting the curve of his shoulder right, they never spoke of it again.


	9. Nine - Geralt/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Four Marks. Geralt contemplates this strange human who has decided to follow him.

The bard had been unusual the moment he approached Geralt. Who just walked up to a Witcher like that with no fear? Even if he did not initially realize that Geralt was a Witcher, his scent continued to carry no hint of fear through their entire conversation. And then he followed Geralt! He walked right up to Roach and just invited himself along? Geralt was truly baffled.

This man was certainly strange, but perhaps he was just an incredibly halfwitted human, and that was why he appeared fearless? Only, he had smelled like fear at one point and only one point: when Filavandrel drew his blade to cut Geralt’s throat.

Was he afraid he would be next, or was he concerned for Geralt? Oddly enough, the bard had spoken up for Geralt, railed against the elves for beating him as they were. He hadn’t ever asked for his own release – only for his lute to be left alone and for the elves to stop hitting Geralt. How strange.

Maybe he truly had been concerned for Geralt. That was a strangely warming thought. There weren’t many people in the world who cared what happened to him. For this stranger to seemingly care?

Well, what was the harm in letting him tag along? He ignored Geralt’s attempts to shoo him away, and when Geralt had tried leaving him behind, the bard had somehow managed to track him down every single time. But more than that – he kept coming back. For whatever reason, this man seemed to  _ want _ to be with Geralt. He wouldn’t be dissuaded, and Geralt was starting to question why he was so against company.

Wasn’t it easier to just stop fighting it?


	10. Ten - Yennefer/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer had fought all her life for the power and recognition that Jaskier freely gave her.

Yennefer had a complicated relationship with beauty. On the one hand, it was a path to power, and what she desired more than anything was to have the power to never feel helpless again. On the other hand, it was all superficial – especially her own “beauty”. Magic was nothing but an illusion, and she’d created the perfect one – powerful, straight-backed, gorgeous beyond belief. Men fell at her feet when she wanted them too – but all the beauty in the world wasn’t enough to give her the power she wanted. And to get it, Yennefer had been forced to give up something else.

It wasn’t even that she specifically wanted a child – she wanted the  _ choice _ . Nothing in her life had been free – every single accomplishment was fought for with blood and sweat and tears. In order to be powerful, to be a mage in Court, she must be beautiful. To be beautiful, she must lose her choice. As if she’d ever really had one. She could have been a prodigy with magic, instead of fighting for every inch of progress, but still no one would have let her into court looking as she was born.

Fools. As if changing her spine had changed who she was. She was that same girl who refused to ever be helpless again. The beauty had only ever been an illusion, no more than skin-deep.

That was why she appreciated Jaskier. His songs spread through the continent, and suddenly she was a household name. But most importantly, the bard never referenced her beauty in his songs. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He referenced her captivating purple eyes – the eyes that had always been hers, that she had kept. 

But when he sang of what made Yennefer appealing, he sang of her cunning wits, her biting tongue, her unrelenting ferocity, and her powerful skill. He gave people a chance to see her for who she was, if they were willing. Many weren’t, of course, just as self-obsessed as always. But a surprising number of people  _ did _ take a look, and called out to her. Now it wasn’t,  _ hey there, gorgeous _ but rather  _ at your service, Master Sorceress. _

It was power. It was recognition. It was everything she had every wanted, and she had Jaskier and his absurdly catchy songs to thank for it.

He was never going to let her forget it, was he?


	11. Eleven - Geralt/Jaskier and Geralt/Yenn (minor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this post.
> 
> Jaskier finally confesses to Geralt, a few weeks after Geralt's apology post-ep 6. The only problem? He confessed in Elder Speech and Geralt has no clue that he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently memes are good inspiration??  
> Geralt felt like being a drama queen in this one, so sorry if it seems OOC!

It had been three weeks since the mountain, three weeks since Geralt had made the biggest mistake of his life. Somehow, miraculously, Jaskier had let Geralt apologize and he’d even  _ said _ he forgave Geralt.

It was hard to believe.

And that wasn’t just Geralt’s self-hate talking. The thing is, Jaskier had been acting different since he’d rejoined Geralt. Part of it was definitely having to deal with Yennefer – the two of them still did not get along with each other, though Geralt had noticed that neither would stand anyone else insulting the other. It was honestly amusing, when he wasn’t worried about the trouble the two of them would unleash.

Anyway, Jaskier was definitely different when Yennefer was around, which she had been more often since Geralt had apologized and clarified what his wish was ( _ I wish for Yennefer to live  _ had apparently been misinterpreted as  _ I wish to tie Yennefer to me _ . He was glad to clear that up). When Yenn was around, Jaskier got  _ more _ – more catty, more dramatic, more overblown. It was actually somewhat amusing, but Geralt missed the Jaskier who had relaxed so easily around him.

Instead of that, the Jaskier he had now always smelled slightly sour – not quite fear, but something similar that still sat uncomfortably on his tongue. Jaskier’s complete lack of fear in him had been what drew him to the bard initially. Of course, now, there were many, many reasons he liked Jaskier (and despite what he teased, it wasn’t just Stockholm Syndrome): his biting wit, his sunshine demeanor, his easy affection and compassion, even his melodic voice, though Geralt would never admit it aloud.

After all this time, Geralt knew he would never stop loving Jaskier. Jaskier’s odd not-quite-fear-not-quite-not scent couldn’t change that – but it hurt on a deep level. He had messed up badly, and now Jaskier did not feel fully safe with him. And he couldn’t figure out how to fix it!

Thankfully, before Geralt had to work up the strength to  _ talk _ , Jaskier approached him, twisting his fingers together and stinking of that same sour not-fear scent. “Geralt, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Jaskier took a deep breath, as though fortifying himself. “I – heh, it’s funny how hard it is to say to you.”

“What?” Geralt had absolutely no idea what Jaskier is talking about, but if he was lucky, Jaskier might reveal what was making him smell too close to scared.

“I –” Jaskier huffed. “Look, I’m just gonna get it out.  _ Aé minne taedh _ ,” he blurted quickly, looking at his feet.

Geralt recoiled sharply. He didn’t know much Elder Speech – Witcher education hadn’t considered it essential. He’d picked up most of the insults over the years, but this wasn’t one he’d heard. Why would Jaskier – Geralt knew he’d messed up, but to seek him out just to insult him? That was not at all what he would have expected from Jaskier. “Why would you say that?” He demanded.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide, and he jerked back from Geralt. “Well, I hardly expected you to react this way!” Geralt thought he smelled the salt of tears in the wind, but he wasn’t sure if he was just wishing he could cry himself. Jaskier shook his head forcefully and walked away from Geralt without another word.

Geralt was left utterly confused as to what happened. Did Jaskier call him up here just to insult and yell at him? Really?

Geralt knew he messed up, but this still seemed an odd reaction from the bard. Did Geralt somehow anger him further? How? What did he do wrong?

It was difficult to find out when Jaskier was not avoiding him entirely. Geralt decided to drown his woes in ale.

He wasn’t expecting Yennefer to show up while he was on his 2nd bottle of wine. He blinked blearily at her from his corner of the pub, where everyone was keeping a distance from the drunk witcher. “Are you here to yell at me too?” He asked.

Yennefer gave him a condescending look. “Well, aren’t you pathetic today? What did you fuck up this time?”

Geralt could feel his lower lip go wobbly, which had never happened to him before. Maybe he should stop drinking before he started crying? Could Witchers even cry? He took another sip as he contemplated it.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just spit it out,” Yenn ordered, pouring herself a glass of wine and making herself comfortable at his table.

“Jaskier hates me,” Geralt did not wail because he wasn’t a drama queen like Jaskier, but he did consider it. Surely this was the type of situation that drama was made for, right?

“What, again?” At his betrayed look, Yennefer sighed. “Fine, okay, what happened between you and your loudmouthed bard?”

“He called me  _ ‘Aé minne taedh’ _ and then got offended at  _ me _ for something! And now he won’t even look at me! He hates me, Yenn,” Geralt let his forehead thumb onto the table. It was actually pretty gross – mildly sticky and smelling of too many substances to sort out, but he was beginning to understand why Jaskier was so dramatic all the time. It was somewhat satisfying, especially now that he had nothing else.

Yennefer was staring at him, not even teasing him for his drunken melodrama. “ _ Aé minne taedh _ ? You’re sure?”

Geralt nodded against the table. “Yes! I thought I knew all of good insults and curse words in Elder Speech, but I’ve never even heard this one! It must be bad.” He thumped his head on the table again with a satisfyingly loud thud.

“You’re kidding me.” Geralt frowned up at Yenn, whose expression seemed to be a mix of amusement and utter frustration. “You’ve lived how long? And the bard knows more Elder than you do?”

“He went to Oxenfurt!” Geralt defended. “I know what I need to!”

“Obviously not.” Yenn sighed deeply before adopting an uninterested air. “He didn’t insult you, Geralt. Rather the opposite.” At his blank look, she threw her hands in the air and stole the rest of his wine. “It means ‘I love you’, you absolute idiot. And if you didn’t respond, I’m guessing your bard is a brokenhearted mess right now.”  _ Just like you _ , she didn’t say, but her raised eyebrow managed to communicate effectively. “Since you clearly won’t be any fun tonight, I’m leaving. Go find your bard and apologize – or don’t, it makes no difference to me.” With that, Yennefer rose and left, managing to attract every eye in the pub with the sway of her hips. She’d also left him to pay for the wine she took, he realized.

Geralt felt slightly disconnected from his body. He thunked his head against the table once more, just because, and fished for his coin purse. Where would the best place to start looking for Jaskier be? It would seem he had another apology to make.

  
Why couldn’t Jaskier have just told him in common speech? He would have understood  _ that _ !


	12. Geralt/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt attempts to apologize for his "pie with no filling" remark in Ep 5: Bottled Appetites

“I was wrong,” Geralt said so softly he wasn’t sure Jaskier could hear him. Dammit. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I was wrong, what I said about your singing.” Geralt licked his lips, struggling to find more words.

Why couldn’t words come easy to him, as they clearly did to Jaskier? Instead, every word felt like a struggle just to form, and then he still had to force it out of his throat and give it voice. 

Sometimes, talking to Jaskier was easy. When they were relaxed around the camp fire, Jaskier usually playing his lute – words came easier then. If Jaskier asked him a question, it suddenly wasn’t so difficult to answer as it had been during the day. 

Other times, it was as if Jaskier went out of his way to make talking difficult. The bard would get moody sometimes, not snapping at him, but extra snide. At those times, Geralt tried not to talk at all – anything he said was always misinterpreted by moody Jaskier, and it wasn’t worth the trouble of sorting it out.

Geralt wasn’t sure if Jaskier had been moody at the lakeside. He knew that he himself had been, though. He truly hadn’t been able to sleep and Jaskier was right about why and he wouldn’t  _ stop blathering _ and all Geralt could think about was how to get a moment’s peace and just  _ sleep _ .

That backfired royally, of course. And while Jaskier was now healed, Geralt knew this injury was on him. Jaskier wouldn’t have grabbed for the amphora if Geralt hadn’t said that– that  _ hurtful _ remark. And he knew it was hurtful – he’d specifically chosen it to hurt. Though really, if he hadn’t been so sleep deprived, he would have known that Jaskier did not get quiet when offended. Instead, he got  _ loud _ .

It was over with now, and Jaskier was safe. Geralt had even managed a nap! But he knew from experience the way words could cut at your soul long after they had been uttered. He didn’t want Jaskier’s soul to be as cut up as his own.

“I li–” Geralt cleared his throat again and focused all his energy on speaking. “I like your voice. And your singing. I – I like best what you sing in when it’s just us, around the campfire.”

“Oh,” Jaskier looked utterly taken aback. Possibly at the fact that Geralt was actually attempting to talk about feelings. Or that he was talking at all.

Sometimes, he realized he genuinely didn’t know Jaskier or how his mind worked as well as he liked to think he did.

Jaskier reached out and touched his cheek, turning him to face the bard. Jaskier stared into his eyes – his yellow Witcher’s eyes that so many recoiled at – until the bard apparently saw what he was looking for. Jaskier smiled softly and patted Geralt’s cheek. “Thank you. For saying it. Neither of us were at our best, were we?” His smile turned wry and Geralt wanted the sadness tinging it gone.

“I’m sorry,” the words came out surprisingly easily, and it was worth all the struggle when Jaskier’s face brightened again. “You are my friend.” Jaskier’s smile was not blinding and Geralt had trouble looking away.

“Oh, Geralt, thank you.” Jaskier casually ran a hand through Geralt’s hair as if that hadn’t caused his entire thought process to short circuit. “I know talking is hard. But it means a lot that you did.” Jaskier leaned forward then and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “Shall we head out?”

Geralt thanked the gods that Witchers couldn’t blush, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the way his blood was pumping furiously and the way his brain had gone completely unresponsive. “Hmm,” he grunted. That was typically a safe bet. 

Fortunately, after having managed so many words, Jaskier clearly didn’t expect him to talk anymore, and began strumming and singing as they walked along.


	13. Geralt/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt was always restless after sex. Fortunately, showering Jaskier in affection works to calm him down.

Geralt was always restless after sex. Personally, Jaskier wanted nothing more than a nap when they finished, which was inconvenient when he had to abruptly escape an encounter. Geralt, on the other hand, needed something to do. Jaskier imagined that was less of an issue with the ladies of the night he usually contracted – no time for naps and enjoyment when you were paying for your time. 

But now, neither of them had anywhere to be. The inn they were staying in had a door that locked, so Geralt had no need to patrol the perimeter. Their bed was large and surprisingly comfy, and Geralt had no appreciation for it at all.

“Come here,” Jaskier murmured, eyes half closed. “What do you need?”

Geralt shook his head. He was still struggling to express his feelings, especially with words, but Jaskier was going to need  _ something _ from him if he was going to be able to help. And no, the solution was  _ not _ for Geralt to get out of bed and sharpen his swords. 

When he tried to get out of bed, Jaskier grasped his arm. “Stay. Please?”

Geralt tilted his head down at Jaskier and smiled softly. “I have an idea,” he said.

“By all means,” Jaskier waved his hand pointlessly in the air before letting it fall back to the bed. Before it hit the sheets, Geralt caught his hand gently and brought it to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to each fingertip, then his palm, then the back of his hand. Jaskier smiled up at his ridiculous Witcher as he moved to his the pulse point on Jaskier’s wrist and up his inner arm. “So this plan is to...kiss me?”

“Hmm,” Geralt rumbled, leaning down to kiss his shoulder. “You can doze. I don’t mind.”

Jaskier chuckled. “And miss Geralt of Rivia showing affection? Not a chance.” He yawned even as he said it though, and Geralt pressed his own laugh to Jaskier’s lips. 

“Sleep,” Geralt murmured, pressing kisses against his cheeks and forehead. 

Jaskier closed his eyes and let himself doze off to the feeling of Geralt pressing soft kisses along his chest, showering him in affection.


	14. Yennefer/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note the increased rating! This chapter is literally just spanking idk what to tell you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [ladivvinatravestia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladivvinatravestia)

Yennefer did not enjoy walking. It was a remnant from her days where ever step sent sharp pain up up her spine and every movement was a struggle. Magic may have straightened her spine, but there were times she still felt phantom pains while walking.

So the obvious solution was to avoid walking. Enchanting stones into creatures to carry her magical palanquin was easy enough, and it upheld the aesthetics she enjoyed. She hadn’t yet added the spell to make it bigger on the inside, though. It was a difficult enchantment and she’s used up so much energy with the other steps. Since she’d expected to travel along, expanding the small one-person palanquin wasn’t a priority.

Then Jaskier showed up. And Yennefer could hardly leave him out in the rain, could she? If there was no where else to sit than in her lap – well, that was unfortunately, wasn’t it? And if she first demanded the bard remove his soaking wet clothing, well, she was just protecting her dress. It had been quite expensive, after all.

Jaskier winked at her before eagerly disrobing. She pat her knee, but instead of sitting in her lap as she expected, Jaskier lay himself over her knee, arse up. Well, she could work with that. Yennefer lay her hand on the pale arse in front of her, noticing the way her bright red nails complemented the color. It would be ever so lovely to see them match, wouldn't it? And if it’s what Jaskier was asking for…

She scraped her nails over his skin, and then drew her hand back and smacked him firmly. Jaskier’s moan in response was positively indecent, and it made her stomach squirm. Interesting. This required further investigation.

“Count them,” she ordered. 

Jaskier made a whimpering sound and wrapped one hand around her ankle to ground himself. “One.”

Yennefer brought her hand down again, and Jaskier made a broken noise that sounded like it may have started as “yes” before his groan dragged it out. “Two,” he said.

The sound made heat curl below her stomach again, and for a moment, there was a perfect red handprint on his ass. She decided he liked it. She wanted to make it last.

Jaskier enjoyed this, enjoyed letting Yennefer hit him. Given their past, it was so strange that he trusted her enough for this. And yet, he was right – she would never risk the hard-earned trust they’d built between each other. 

Instead of a slap, she brought he hand down to trace over his skin, ghosting a nail down his crack. Jaskier moaned and wiggled, so she laid her other hand flat on his back to still him. “So noisy, aren’t you?” This time, she brought her hand down with force twice in a row, enjoying the way her handprints overlapped as he gasped out the count. “We are traveling through the city, you know. Anyone could hear you.” In truth, the only living things anywhere close to them were her enchanted creatures, and they didn’t actually have ears. Still, she’d always enjoyed being seen. Being heard was almost as good.


	15. Gen - Ciri & Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier convinces everyone that hide and seek is the perfect way to train Ciri in tracking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Boots on Discord: "Her hands had gone up to cover her face. She was still wailing."

Ciri didn’t get to play often these days. She’d been forced to grow up too fast. So Jaskier tried to make a point of indulging his childish side with her. Today, that meant pretending that hide and seek was a training exercise. Jaskier had managed to convince a dubious Vesemir and Geralt that this was an opportunity for Ciri to practice tracking, and for the rest of them to practice stealth.

Yes, Jaskier was aware of the irony of proposing stealth exercises while wearing a lime green doublet. That just meant he had to try harder.

Anyway, Jaskier was pretty sure that of everyone here, only he and Ciri had ever played hide and seek before. The Witchers certainly hadn’t known what it was, and Yennefer had just given them a baffled look as they explained the ~~game~~ training exercise. But Ciri was excited about it, so they went along with Jaskier’s proposal.

Now, Ciri stood in the courtyard of Kaer Morhen, next to a training dummy. Her hands had gone up to cover her face. She was still waiting, counting off the seconds for them to hide.

Jaskier watched with a grin as Lambert and Geralt proceeded to take this entirely too seriously, running quickly for the best hiding spot. Eskel and Vesemir still looked a bit confused, but each was applying themselves with dedication to Ciri’s education. And then there was Yennefer, who had definitely never played before, because instead of running somewhere to hide, she disappeared through a portal as soon as Ciri started her countdown.

Jaskier shook his head to himself as he ran to the hideyhole he’d previously scouted out. Clearly, Ciri wasn’t the only one who needed some time to play. If he had to teach four Witchers and a Sorceress to embrace their inner child, Jaskier was going to have to step up his game.


	16. Geralt/Jaskier Pre-Slash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events with the djinn, Jaskier confronts Geralt about why he wasn't there when Jaskier woke up.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Jaskier said. His eyes were shadowed when Geralt looked at him over the campfire. 

“What?”

“Geralt, last thing I remembered was being on horseback with you after getting told that I was slowly dying. Then I woke up with crazy lady and you were nowhere around.” He licked his lip and met Geralt’s gaze with hurt eyes. “Don’t do that to me ever again, Geralt. I was fucking scared and  _ you weren’t there.”  _ Jaskier curled over to hug himself. This entire past day had been a nightmare and he wanted to forget it as quickly as possible. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt wished he could reach out and touch the man, but the fire was in the way. “If I could have been there, I would have. I wanted to be.”

Jaskier hunched, like the wind had been blown out of him. “Well, that’s something.” Jaskier poked a stick into the ground near the fire, avoiding Geralt’s eyes.

Geralt frowned. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to be there? It’s my fault you were hurt.”

“Technically, it’s the djinn’s fault.” Jaskier shrugged, eyes on the ground. “But I guess that’s what I mean.” He sighed and looked up at Geralt. “It’s been a decade and a half and you still can’t admit we’re friends. How do I know if you’ll stick around or if this is the time you run scared, unwilling to deal with the trouble the annoying bard who follows you around gets into?” There was a sardonic note to his expression as he said the last bit.

Geralt startled. “I wouldn’t leave you,” he said.

“Since when?” Jaskier tilted his head. “You tried to get rid of me a dozen times when we first started traveling together. I’m aware that I latch onto you and you put up with me.” Jaskier sighed again, rubbing his hands over his face. “I just want to know where I stand. If – if I should stop bothering you and move on with my life.”

“You don’t bother me,” Geralt whispered. He’d thought Jaskier knew that, knew how important the bard was to Geralt. That he’d known when Geralt was teasing. “I –” he licked his lips. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Jaskier was quiet, so Geralt looked up to see Jaskier staring at him with an astonished face. Geralt felt like his chest was squeezing tight. Had he really failed to show the bard how much Geralt cared about him?

“You –” Jaskier’s voice choked and he cleared this throat. “Uh, well that’s good. I don’t particularly want to leave. But uh – I mean, really? I know I grate on your nerves, and I sing all the time and you don’t even like my singing–”

“I lied.” Geralt interrupted.

“What?”

Geralt swallowed. “I lied. About your singing. It’s not – you’re not fillingless.” He bit his lip but then decided fuck it, if he didn’t speak now, when would be? “Your popular songs are annoying. But what you sing when we’re on the road – I like those. I wish you sang them more.” If Witchers could blush, he was pretty sure he would be now. He hoped that would be enough words. It was really more than he’d said in quite some time, and talking was exhausting.

Jaskier blinked at him, a smile pulling at his lips. “Well, why didn’t you just say so? For you, Geralt my dear, I will always take requests?”

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted. Jaskier never accepted requests to be quiet, but Geralt supposed song requests were different.

“You really like my singing?” Jaskier was biting his lips to try to hide his grin now, but it was not working. 

Geralt just grunted. He’d said enough words tonight. He wanted to make sure Jaskier knew how much he meant to Geralt though. “I don’t dislike you,” he murmured. “A lot.”

“I  _ think _ I understood that,” Jaskier said. “I think the entire continent knows by now, but I don’t dislike you either. A lot.” There was a laugh in his voice now, and Geralt was glad he’d lost the forlorn sadness that had settled around him. “And I mean, I know I don’t dislike a lot of people, but I don’t dislike you the most.”

A smile tugged at Geralt’s mouth. “I don’t dislike you the most too.”

Jaskier’s grin was bright and happy and Geralt seared the sight into his memory. It wasn’t hard to make Jaskier happy, and yet every time, Geralt felt like he had won something. Like he was special for making the bard smile.

If Jaskier didn’t know Geralt felt like that, maybe he would just have to do a better job of showing it. Not with words – words were Geralt’s enemy – but he could do more for Jaskier on the road to make sure he understood all the ways Geralt showed his care.

Geralt would always take care of Jaskier, if he could. If the bard would let him.

He might even work up the nerve to ask one day.


	17. Yennefer/Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt makes sure nothing interrupts Jaskier's surprise for Yennefer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [vindicatedwitcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindicatedwitcher/pseuds/vindicatedwitcher) for their bday!! Sorry I'm a few days late, but I hope you like it!

The rush of waves in the distance created a nice ambiance for this job. Not that Geralt considered it work to help Jaskier and Yennefer, but he was technically being employed as a witcher. Specifically, a witcher who needed to keep the seaside clear of drowners and other such monsters that would really spoil the mood of the romantic picnic taking place a short distance away.

Geralt really should give them privacy, but he couldn’t help listening, chest tight with his hope for his idiots. He knew what Jaskier’s plan was, of course – had even helped the bard as he prepared for this, prepared to offer Yennefer this.

Jaskier had spread a large blanket out on the sand, because Yennefer  _ hated _ sand getting everywhere, but especially in her hair. They ate a light array of foods that Geralt hadn’t recognized the names of, but had seen at the fancy feasts nobles held, and drank wine that Jaskier had paid a frankly absurd amount of coin for. Yennefer had smiled genuinely when she’d seen the picnic array, but the real surprise would be coming shortly.

Geralt heard the distinctive screech of a siren in the distance and loaded his crossbow, shooting it down just before normal human hearing would be able to detect it. Nothing would be permitted to interrupt Jaskier’s surprise.

When Geralt tuned back in on the conversation, Jaskier cleared his throat and took Yennefer’s hand. “I have something for you. Well, for us. I – I know you want to be a mother, and I thought, well, maybe this would work as a test run?”

Jaskier pulled aside the blankets in the picnic basket and passed it to Yennefer to look inside. Yenn grunted at the unexpected weight of the basket and the looked down at what Geralt knew was a small black and pink spotted piglet. It snuffled at her and Yenn gasped wetly.

Jaskier continued, “I’m not trying to say that you aren’t ready to be a mom! It’s more – well, I’ve tried my hardest  _ not _ to grow up and mature, but you make me want to, so that we can have this together. And –” Jaskier bit his lip, fumbling for words in a way Geralt had rarely seen. “I know I’m...well, uh, not exactly responsible. But I figure, if we can manage a baby animal, we can manage a baby human. And well, I know you like pigs…”

Yennefer’s face was a picture. Her teeth were digging into her lower lip, stark white against bright red, her cheeks were pink, and her violet eyes were welling up with tears. Jaskier looked up at her and immediately panicked.

“Oh no, was that horrible to bring up? I know your past is a minefield, I just wanted to–”

Yenn cut him off by grabbing his cheeks and pressing their lips together in a kiss that looked both tender and violent. “Shut up, you idiot,” she said against Jaskier’s lips, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

Geralt’s cheeks ached and he realized he was smiling at his idiots, probably with a stupid look on his face. He couldn’t seem to make it stop, and he didn’t have to anyway. He shook his head, spotted a drowner bubbling up from the depths and twisted the silver sword in his grasp.

Yennefer and Jaskier were going to be okay. They would figure out this parenthood thing. And hopefully, Jaskier was aware of exactly how large piglets grew up to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to prompts for anything you'd like to see with Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer in any configuration!


End file.
